As he pocketed the envelope, a wave of relief washed over him. The misunderstandings had been cleared up, and he was ready to leave. With no money on him, he needed to find a place to stay, using his credentials as collateral.
"Leaving already?" The woman's tone softened. "I'm sorry about earlier. It was just self-defense kicking in, especially in situations like that. I hope the guitar is okay."
"It's no trouble," he replied, trying to lighten the mood. "The shell of the guitar case is pretty tough; you might have done more damage to your shovel than to the case."
She chuckled, though she seemed genuinely concerned. "Really? Alright, don't come crying to me if you find it broken later." He gave a wry smile. "No need for compensation. Everything's fine as long as you don't call the cops on me."
"Okay, since you're insisting on rejecting my offer to compensate, how about this: would you like to join me for breakfast?" His stomach rumbled at the mention of breakfast. He was tempted but felt a pang of hesitation.
"Can I really join you for breakfast? I wouldn't want to intrude, especially if you have a husband or boyfriend who might mind." Her expression softened, and she shook her head.
"No worries. I'm single, and I live alone with just my cat. You're welcome to join." He hesitated for a moment, then nodded gratefully. "In that case, I'd be more than happy to accept. I appreciate the offer."
As they walked towards her home, he felt a mix of relief and curiosity. The kindness was unexpected, but he was grateful for the opportunity to eat and perhaps find a place to stay.
The morning was turning out to be more eventful than he had anticipated. As the woman led him to her cozy home, the path was lined with colorful flowers that brightened the already sunny morning.
"By the way, I should introduce myself," The woman said with a warm smile as she opened the door. "I'm Diane. I'm sorry again for the confusion earlier."
"Nice to meet you, Diane," he said, stepping inside and taking in the inviting surroundings. "You already know me based on the documents, but I'm Mark. Thank you for being so kind."
When they entered, Mark noticed that the kitchen was directly accessible from the entrance. "Sorry for not inviting you through the front door," Diane said. "You kind of popped up out of nowhere in my backyard."
Mark shook his head. "No, it's okay, Diane. It's kind of my fault for trespassing."
He admired the kitchen's clean, functional layout. "Your kitchen looks great," he said, noting the neatly arranged vegetables beside the sink and the red stand mixer "Come on, it's just a normal kitchen," she said, waving it off while guiding him toward the table.
The kitchen and dining area were combined, making the space feel even cozier. As she moved to the fridge to check the ingredients, Mark stood up. "Please, let me help with breakfast. It's my fault for causing trouble."
She waved him off, smiling. "No, it's fine. I didn't eat breakfast today either, since I was busy checking the vegetables outside. Sometimes rats or insects try to ruin the crops."
When Diane opened the refrigerator, Mark was a little taken aback by the amount of vegetables—carrots, eggplants, cucumbers—it was practically a garden inside.
Diane noticed his expression and laughed. "I'm not vegan or anything. I just find it easier and cheaper to eat what I grow. But I've got eggs and bacon here too," she said, holding them up.
Embarrassed, he quickly said, "No, it's great! Eating vegetables is healthy. No wonder you have such a beautiful figure—it's probably because of this lifestyle."
She rolled her eyes and pinched her side. "You're joking, right? I can pinch my belly here, so I'm definitely not fit." He was flabbergasted by what she had just said. Her side bellies? he thought to himself.
From where he stood, Diane's waistline was more curvaceous than some of the famous celebrities he'd seen online. The only things that looked "plump" were her front and back—neither of which any man could possibly complain about. Still, he decided not to point that out.
"Well, I guess if that's what you call pinchable, I'll just take your word for it" he said, a half-smile forming on his lips as he tried to keep things light.
Diane shrugged, pulling out ingredients from the fridge. She grabbed eggs, bacon, eggplant, onions, and some leafy greens.
"Even though having vegetables is healthy, eating them almost every day is a grueling torture." She joked, placing the ingredients on the counter. "Humans need meat too, you know."
Mark chuckled at her words as he began helping her wash the vegetables. Diane cracked and whisked the eggs while Mark asked, "How do I cut these vegetables?"
"Just dice the eggplant and slice the onion into rings," Diane instructed, heating oil in a pan as she tilted it in circles to spread it evenly.
Mark nodded, starting with the onion. Slicing onions always made him tear up, like the time he stubbed his toe on the coffee table. It felt like a cruel twist of fate—but the onions seemed determined to make him cry even more.
After what felt like a small tearful struggle, he moved on to dicing the eggplant into cubes. With that done, he looked at the leafy greens on the counter, puzzled. "What do I do with these bushes?" he asked.
Diane shot him a playful side-eye. "Just take the leaves off the stems, Mark. It's not rocket science," she teased. Mark grinned, shaking his head as he started plucking the leaves.
This morning had certainly taken an unexpected turn, he thought. After he finished prepping the vegetables, he handed the ingredients over to Diane, who took over with ease.
She tossed the diced eggplants into the hot pan, followed by the onion rings, letting them sizzle for a few seconds. Grabbing the bowl of beaten eggs, she poured the mixture in a circular motion, ensuring it spread evenly across the pan.
As she tilted the pan back and forth to distribute the eggs, a rich aroma filled the room. Mark's stomach growled in response, the hunger pangs making him painfully aware of how long it had been since he'd last eaten.
As he watched Diane expertly handle the pan, and for a moment, he was struck by a sudden realization. The sight of her cooking, standing confidently at the stove, brought back memories of watching his mother cook while his father looked on with love and admiration.
He felt something stir inside him, a strange warmth in the moment, almost like he was sharing in the same quiet joy his father used to experience.
He was jolted back to the present when his stomach growled loudly, betraying his hunger. Diane smirked, not missing a beat. "Looks like someone's hungry," she teased as she flipped the eggs with a smooth flick of her wrist.
Mark's eyes widened in amazement. "Woah, you can do that?"
With a playful arrogance, Diane reached over and flicked her nose with her thumb. "You know nothing about me, boy," she said with a playful smirk, turning back to the stove as Mark laughed.
Disclaimer:
The characters, settings, and elements in this fanfiction are the intellectual property of their respective owners. New Life, New Saga is inspired by Summertime Saga, which is owned by Kompas Productions. This fanfiction is created purely for fun and non-commercial purposes, and I do not claim any ownership of the original works. All rights to the original material belong to their creators. If you appreciate my work and would like to support my writing, consider making a donation on my Patreon. Thank you for your support and for reading!